


New Beginnings

by Detroitbydark



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst?, F/M, Hevie - Freeform, Kid Fic, fluff?, not sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 08:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detroitbydark/pseuds/Detroitbydark
Summary: Beltane is a celebration of new beginnings but old wounds still burn fresh in Harry Hooks chest.





	New Beginnings

Fair winds and following seas accompany the Lost Revenge on its last three days into the port of Avalon. It makes for both a happy Captain and a happy crew. The smooth conditions and favorable seas had allowed the crew to complete the better part of the laundry list of needed repairs as well as rest up for the party ahead.

Avalon was a sleepy port located on the the southern most of the Southern Isles. The weather and people were always pleasant and hospitable (even to pirates). They took pride in their far flung home and clung to the old gods of the world. Any excuse to be found for a festival or party was all but sacred. 

Docking had been a dream and the crew had collected their earnings from the Captain and First Mate like children receiving and allowance they knew they were going to spend on fun and folly. The ship emptied all but the watch who sullenly watched as their compatriots hurried off the join the Beltane festivities Avalon was known far and wide for.

The docks spill into a marketplace decorated in springtime flowers and bright colors. The Earth was awaking and the inhabitants of the Isles would celebrate the return of the flowers that brought late summer fruit and the green grasses and grains that would provide fodder for their animals. Vendors lined the streets. Peddlers of fresh baked pastries in the shapes of suns and seashells hocked their delights. A squat grey haired woman with a tray full of candies smiled a gummy grin at the hoards of children that flocked to her for a sweet treat. Roasted meats, ripened cheese, ale and mead; everything was available for a small price and a smile. The air was filled with song as a small group of locals gathered along the cobbled market center with fiddles and drums and reeded instruments.

Harry can’t help the smirk that crosses his face as he turns in a circle, his senses overwhelmed. The deepest blues and seafoam greens of The ocean, his sweet mistress, were the only colors he’d seen in the last month. The lap and slap of waves and winds in the sails , the only sounds he’d heard. Salt cod, hardtack, and rum the only foods that existed. Now, he was surrounded by a cacophony of sounds, smells, and colors that made him almost as giddy as the children that darted around the market with full bellies and sticky fingers, their high pitched laughter ringing out. 

Uma and Gil are in his periphery. The captains hair formed a halo around her smiling face. Bonnie had taken her braids down earlier in the day and Uma’s teal tresses formed a soft cloud of loose waves that Gil hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of. She looked girlish, carefree among the festivities. Gil, the blonde pup, pays for a chain of flowers from a young girl and he places it around Uma’s neck like a piece of fine jewelry. She pretends to roll her eyes but Harry can see the innocent blush that colors her cheeks as her fingers touch the soft petals of blue bonnets, dandelions,and babies breath. 

Leave it to Beltane to coax young love into bloom. Not that he was searching for love. Harry had been there. He’d mucked that up. No, he wasn’t looking for love but he hoped to find a fresh faced lass, a bonnie blonde or fiery redhead to keep him company for the day (and maybe the night). He sees blue eyes and green, even a particularly striking pair of amethyst that reminds him of jewels and treasure, but none that spark more than a passing interest. 

He Listens to the jigs and sea songs the makeshift band plays. Some pluck at strings while other attack the instruments with bows. A man holding a large upright hollow bodied instrument slaps out a rhythm along the worn wood. A woman who appears both young and old at the same times taps out a steady beat on a battered pair of steel spoons. Children spin in a circle hands entwined. It reminds him of nights in the forecastle room he shared with his sisters, dancing and laughing until Smee would hush them with threats of their father’s wrath. He wishes Harriet and CJ were with him, they’d enjoy this. Maybe he’d send word next year, have them meet him here. He doubted he’d dance but stranger things had happened when he was half in his pints.

Harry’s eyes falls on the young ones, girls just barely women, spinning around a Maypole, the pole itself being wrapped in ribbons of half a dozen colors as the participants weave around each other. The girls and women swap out positions, when one leaves another takes her place. Giggles and laughter ring clear like bells accompanying the band. He watches, the toe of his black polished boot taps along to the rhythm, as a flash of cobalt enters the fray. Harry’s heart stutters, sinks. 

Not her, he wills. 

It can only be a figment of his imagination. Regardless, he can’t look away. Her back stays to him as she laughs and spins about. The sound brings the fine hairs on the back of his neck up to attention. Finally he sees her face and yes, it’s her. 

Evie. 

Her ruby red lips curl back in joy and her simple blue dress twirling around her shins. Her cheeks are pink with exertion. 

She’s older. It’s been three years by his reckoning but she’s just as beautiful as the day he broke her heart. Maybe more so. Her hips are wider, she’d grown into the curves her body had promised as a woman barely twenty years old. Her pale décolletage on display for all to see accentuated by necklaces layered one on another. They sparkle in the sun. She sparkles in the sun. She always had. He sure she always will. 

The sight of her sends a possessive surge welling up through him only made worse when a strapping young lad takes her hand and spins her away from the pole, his hand on her hip, his other laced between her fingers. Other men cut in and spin her about til the song ends and she’s out of breath, panting and smiling. A woman approaches her laughing as a wee child reaches out toward her, nearly falling out of the other woman’s arms in an attempt to reach for Evie. The youngsters hair is a softer shade of his mother’s own cerulean blue. Evie swings him into her arms burying her face in his little neck, stirring peels of laughter from his little body.

Harry staggers. His turn is sharp, precise, as he marches away. He finds the nearest vender offering mugs of some sweet rum based concoction. He doesn’t ask what it is. He gives the man extra and wanders away before he can make change. He doesn’t taste the syrupy sweetness as he takes long quick pulls. His heart is pounding, his palms sweaty.

What had he expected? That she’d never move on, hung up on the bastard pirate who’d given her an introduction to broken hearts? Like a million times before he sees her red-rimmed eyes asking him why. It had taken him a week battling his own hubris to admit that it was a mistake but by that time it was too late. She’d seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth. 

Turns out, she only gone to the ends of it to get away from him.

Harry wonders about the whelp. Evie had voiced her concerns about children on more than one occasion, terrified her mother’s emotional abuse and father’s absenteeism had ruined her for any child she’d have in the future. He knew better. The Princess was no villain. She was pureness wrapped in a wicked package, his favorite obsession and most beloved treasure. The idea of her mothering a babe made his heart clench, his throat suddenly dry as he attempted to swallow. The music begins again, another high stepper that has the crowd whooping and hollering, old sailors sing the familiar words. Maybe another time he’d join them, but not now. Now he just wants to get back to the ship, his bunk, and the flask of whiskey he kept for emergencies. He pulls off his hat, running his hand roughly through the mess of hair hidden underneath before placing it back on his head. A firm hit to his legs has him nearly crumpling as he tries to turn towards the docks.

“Hector!”

Harry looks down and sees a flash of messy blue hair move to skirt around him. 

“Hector?!”

Harry grabs the wee lad by the shoulder, amazed by the strength in his struggle. His father must have been one of those bears of a man that worked the docks, hauling ropes and goods. He was probably a good man who loved the lads mother. She deserved it.

“Le’ go!” The child giggles, “hiding from mummy!” Harry shakes his head as he hauls the child up.

“Ye shouldn’ run away from yer Mum, ye’ll scare-“ the child turns his round cheeks toward Harry, looks up at him with light cornflower eyes. Harry’s own eyes, resting in the cherubic face.

“Oh, sweet apples, Hector!” Evie huffs moving through the crowd to the pair, relief evident in her tone.

“Mummy! Found me!” He says glancing from Harry excitedly to the woman over his shoulder.

“Thank you-“ Evie's face blanches as Harry turns to face her. His son in his arms for the first time.

“Harry…”

**Author's Note:**

> First new Hevie I’ve written in forever. As of right now it will be a one-shot. Let me know what you think, yeah? Enjoy!


End file.
